


Socks

by Ronile



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gen, M/M, Mirror of Erised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:23:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4316799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ronile/pseuds/Ronile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Albus Dumbledore looks into the mirror of Erised.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Socks

“I see myself holding a pair of thick, woollen socks.”

Albus doesn’t know what inspires him to tell the truth, perhaps it is simply the knowledge that his revelation will mean nothing to Harry. He resists the urge to lift the hem of his robes, to check, he doesn’t need to. The socks on his feet are old and worn, held together by the repeated application of mending charms. The socks in the mirror are brand new, but they are the same.

The memory overwhelms him before he can stop it.

_Clack. Clack. Clack._

Albus throws down his book.

“Do you have to do that right now Gellert?” He asks, irritated. “It’s distracting.”

“It helps me think.” The boy lying on the bed doesn’t even open his eyes as he responds. Beside him, and with no apparent effort on his part, the knitting needles continue to work.

“What are you making anyway?” Albus asks, peering down at the deep purple wool which is slowly taking shape beneath the needles.

“You’ll find out… If you can resist hexing me that is.” Gellert cracks one eye open, smirking. Albus has drawn his wand without even realising it. He starts to lower it, but then thinks better of the idea.

“ _Silencio_.” He says, turning his wand on the needles.

Gellert rolls his eyes, before closing them once again.

Albus returns to his book.

The silencing charm is so effective that Albus has completely forgotten about the knitting when Gellert hands him a package some days later.

“Happy Birthday.” He grins. Albus takes the package and rips it open to reveal a pair of very thick, hand-knitted socks.

“They’re perfect!” Albus grins back at him. “Or they would be, if it wasn’t the middle of August!”

“That, my dear Albus, is but a tiny, insignificant detail.” Gellert lifts his wand, and suddenly the temperature drops by thirty degrees. A snowflake lands on Albus’s nose, apparently oblivious to the fact that they are indoors.

He pulls the socks on without a moment’s hesitation. They look ridiculous paired with his light, summer shirt and breeches but he doesn’t care. The warmth spreads from his toes right up to the tips of his ears, and he looks down to hide the blush spreading over his cheeks. It’s only then that he spots the subtle design woven into the socks in golden thread. A triangle and a circle, with a vertical line down the centre. He traces the design carefully with one finger.

“Thank you.” He says quietly, and looks up again, his eyes shining.

Gellert has snow in hair. Albus doesn’t think he’s ever looked more beautiful.

The memory fades.

Albus takes one last look before turning away. In the mirror, Gellert pulls his hand away from the socks, and holds it, tightly. They are the same socks, but for one small detail. Where the socks on his feet still bear the golden symbol, the shining reminder of his arrogance and his foolishness that he must live with every day of his life, the socks in the mirror are unadorned.

 


End file.
